DX01: SINGULARITY 07072

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Water trickles through the cracks of a vast, abandoned hockey rink, the ice surface cracked and worn, reflecting the pale light of late afternoon. Uh, the air's crisp, carrying the scent of old rubber and freezing temperatures, as crystalline formations grow upwards from the ice, forming twisted, geometric patterns that seem to be absorbing the surrounding cold air. Like, somehow, the rink's center ice is warping space, creating a miniature replica of the Great Red Spot storm on Jupiter, complete with swirling clouds of frozen ammonia and lightning. The sound of scraping ice echoes through the rink.